


A Streetcar Named Despair

by stardustandfantasies



Category: Padz and Friends (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 17:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15587238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandfantasies/pseuds/stardustandfantasies
Summary: Wherein Julian fell in what seemed to be love at first and forever and ever sight.





	A Streetcar Named Despair

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own PAF. This is meant to be an over-the-top dramatisation of the lives of English majors. Hence the literary references (if you can spot them I'll love you), especially the ones to _A Streetcar Named Desire_ , which I really can't resist. I mean, (in Marlon Brando's voice) [STELLAAAAA!!!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1A0p0F_iH8)

_Though my soul may rise in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;_  
_I have loved the star too fondly to be fearful of the night._

— Sarah Williams, _The Old Astronomer_

* * *

“May I take your order?”

The girl looked up from her phone as she spoke—and Julian realised that he was facing the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and the world seemed to stop turning to stare at her too. Her long hair, straight and smooth like a silk curtain, cascaded down her back. She wore a peach-coloured dress that accentuated her eyes—bright, twinkling amethyst—and matched her alabastrine complexion.

“Are you okay?” She must’ve noticed his stunned expression, because she looked slightly worried.

“Uh, sorry, I was distracted.” _ _By you.__ “Sorry. May I take your order?”

“One venti green tea crème frappuccino," she said patiently. He didn't know the sound of someone saying the name of a drink could be as pleasing as a choir of angels in heaven.

“Is that all? Would you like something to eat with that?” He pointed to the rows of pastry arrayed in the counter.

“No, thanks. Maybe later, though.” She nonchalantly swept her fringe off her eyes as she spoke. Her fingers are long and slender, the graceful fingers of someone who danced, or played a musical instrument—piano, maybe, or violin.

“And your name is? Don't worry, I'm not going to spell it wrongly,” he added hurriedly. “I'm good with names." It’s not completely true, of course; he __was__  good with names, but like the typical barista he __did__  enjoy trolling his regulars by writing their names with the most ridiculous spellings possible. Yet to do so to her would be grave injustice.

"Oh, it’s nothing complicated, don’t worry." Her laughter flowed melodiously, mellifluously—raindrops falling on a parched ground that was his soul—and showed two neat rows of pearly white teeth. "It's just Stella."

"Stella," he repeated, slowly, marvelling in the melody of those two syllables.

 _Stella_. Star. Nothing could be more apt a name to bestow upon someone who possessed a pulchritude paralleled only by celestial objects on their noble heavenly thrones, someone who had stars dancing in her eyes and galaxies blossoming on her fair cheeks and a flawless complexion that glowed as if it absorbed moonlight.

He now had a name to this graceful green tea-loving muse of his, and he wanted to climb a mountain and shout it out to the entire world.

“Ehm.”

Behind him, Dana, another part-time employer at the student café, cleared his throat, thus crushing his reverie to smithereens.

Julian gave Dana a quick eat-shit-and-die glare, which the spawn of Satan reciprocated with an evil grin.

"Alright!" He returned his attention to Stella, trying to act cheerful. "One venti green tea crème frappuccino for Stella coming! That would be 49 thousands."

Stella paid (his subsequent "thank you" was the most sincere he'd ever said) and went to sit at a table at one corner. Meanwhile, Julian turned to another colleague of his who was preparing her order. "Surya, my man—"

"Yes, I know what you want.” Surya sighed.

Julian beamed with gratitude. “Thanks, bro.”

“You owe me a favour,” warned Surya, but his colleague only grinned, too giddy with joy. He shrugged and took Julian's place behind the cashier. 

Julian placed the venti cup of green tea crème frappucino (now his favourite drink in the menu, elevated to a divine status) on the counter and called, “Order for Stella!”

She smiled at him when she took her drink. “Thanks.”

“You’re most welcome.” He could feel the fluttering butterflies in his stomach metamorphosing into raging pterodactyls.

“Oh.”

Something about the cup, however, appeared to have caught her attention, and she giggled.

"Pardon?"

Did he do anything wrong? Did he give her a caramel latte and not the green tea frap she asked for? Did he, instead of writing her name, wrote "love of my life, sun of my day, star of my night" instead? His brain started to concoct an elaborate plan to book a one-way plane ticket to Tibet, become a monk, and cut all ties to civilisation, so that he would never, ever have to come back and face her again.

“You drew on it.”

Well. Thank goodness.

... Wait, what.

No, he didn't doodle a tiny starry sky with galaxies and planets around her name. This wasn't happening. He didn't make himself look like an idiot.

Except that he _did_ , because that’s what on her cup.

"Well, you know... 'Stella for star.'" He grinned, but inwardly grimaced. Somewhere in the other half of the world, Tennessee Williams must be wailing in his grave.

To his surprise, she laughed (taking all the oxygen in the room away in the process). “It’s really cute! You draw well.".

 _ _Cute__.

He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know how to breathe anymore. Not after she said his doodle was _cute_. She might be just being polite, but he didn't care. He wanted to melt into an unworthy puddle of goo on her feet.

“Do you always do this? The drawing, I mean.”

“Only for special cases.”

He wanted to punch himself on the face for blurting it out. Why was he so awkward with her? He’s not usually awkward with girls—as a rule of thumb, he was rarely awkward with anyone, thanks to growing up with four boisterous brothers.

“I see.” She smiled again, and the entire room lit up. "Well, thank you, then—” she glanced at his name tag, “—Julian.”

He made her laugh, and she complimented him and noticed his name. He'd earned his ticket to the Elysian Fields and could die happily now.

“Stop grinning like an idiot and get back to work.” Dana whacked his head, mercilessly dragging him back to reality. “We’re too busy to entertain your little infatuation.”

“Dana, you’re no fun,” he groaned, but he did what his colleague ordered, because didn’t want to lose his job; he wanted to see her again.

From where he stood, he had quite a good view of her seat. She was sitting by window a across the room, typing on her laptop, probably working on an assignment or a project. She must be a student in this university too. He wondered what she was studying, and if they would meet in some other place around the campus. And she was alone, which might mean she wasn’t attached, and that gave him hope.

The last rays of sunset streamed through the window, crowning her hair, painting glorious slivers of gold in a wave of lilac. It was a vista worth dedicating hundreds of sonnets to. But perhaps not even Shakespeare himself could capture the exquisite subtlety of this scene quite perfectly, for even comparing it to a summer day wouldn't do it sufficient justice.

“He’s hopeless,” Dana commented.

Surya shook his head at the antiques of their colleague. “I have to agree.”

“You guys don’t understand,” Julian protested. “I’ve just had a religious experience.”

“Actually, maybe you need to be taken to church instead,” Dana replied drily. “We get it, she’s kind of cute, but—”

“‘Kind of cute’?” Julian had never looked so offended before. Dana had a __boy__ friend. He's about as straight as a banana. To him any girl was as attractive as doorhandles—but to underestimate the work of Art he was facing was blasphemy. "I've only seen such beauty in celestial objects in the heavens, and even they shamefully retreat into the shadows of the dark, brooding night upon seeing her—"

“Stop being a drama queen, it’s disgusting.” Dana interrupted, still poker-faced and unimpressed by that stellar description (pun intended; with Julian puns were always intended).

“Don't mind Dana,” Surya intervened. “You know his type—silky smooth dark hair and dark eyes, everything that Adriaan is—” Dana glowered at him. Unfortunately, Surya, being the cousin of Adriaan the Boyfriend, was immune to his glare “—and your eye candy isn’t, although she is very pretty too. But you need to get back to work. The Manager could show up any time. He wouldn’t want to see you loafing around.”

Julian sighed, but he still wanted to see her coming to the café and listen to her recite the name of drinks with her lilting voice and watch the corners of her lips curving sweetly upwards as she took her order. He miraculously managed to carry out his duties normally, although he couldn't stop thinking of Stella and her smile and her laughter and __God why couldn't he stop doing it__ but he just couldn't. Things fell apart, the centre couldn't hold.

He looked up from his brewing coffee just in time to catch Stella walking towards the door, which was just within a hearing distance from him. He didn't know how he did it, but he said to her, "Hey, thanks for coming, and have a nice day!"

She turned to him and flashed that smile again. "You too."

Of course that didn’t affect him at all, and his heart didn't skip a beat—no, two full beats, and something (the pterodactyls?) inside his stomach didn't do a somersault. _Of course not._

How dare she disturb the universe with that damn smile. Someone ought to stop her. Preferably himself. By sealing her lips with his own—

—wait, what.

He had never expected to be dependent on the mercy of a stranger—and yet, now he was, overwhelmed by feelings that were too great for him to contain.

**Author's Note:**

> This may or may not be continued. The title of this chapter is "Girl, Interrupting"—I'm just that nerdy that I have to make everything a literary allusion.
> 
> The café is located within the college campus. Daniel is the owner and also a lecturer in the Faculty of Medicine. Julian majors in English, Dana in pure chemistry, Surya in civil engineering, and Stella in international relations.


End file.
